


Live Without

by muse_in_absentia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - No War, Asexual Character, Breaking Up & Making Up, Happy Ending, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-07-25 14:17:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16199240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muse_in_absentia/pseuds/muse_in_absentia
Summary: The years apart have given them both some time to really figure out who they are, alone, and if they're lucky together.





	Live Without

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to Kit for the lovely beta work, and to Moony for listening to me whine about this far too much, and for helping me to find my Remus when I was a bit lost. Also, thank you to everyone in the Discord for being simply lovely people!

The air in the flat was stifling, and Sirius wasn’t sure if it was actually as hot as he felt or if it was just the mood in the room. He sat on the sofa, perched on the very edge gripping his knees through his denims so hard that he was sure he would have ten little bruises in the morning. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” Remus said, voice soft but solid, firm. He was pacing the far end of the room, as if he was wary of getting too close to Sirius, and that hurt a little extra, another jab in an already gaping wound. 

Sirius felt everything around him crack just a little bit, and he didn’t dare so much as breathe for fear of shattering it all and cutting himself to ribbons. 

“You aren’t good for me,” Remus had continued, but Sirius could barely hear him over the pounding in his ears, the way the blood rushed up and threatened to drown him. He almost hoped he would pass out just so that he wouldn’t have to hear this anymore. An aborted movement was made to reach for Remus, but he knew that wouldn’t be fair to either of them. There was a look about Remus, mostly in the way his eyes darted around without settling on Sirius, the pinched corners of his mouth, that said that Sirius could convince him to change his mind – but if he cared about Remus at all he wouldn’t try. 

Sirius didn’t try. 

“I’ll pack a bag,” was the last thing Remus said to him before closing the door on what had been their flat and was now just a shell. A mausoleum to good memories freshly buried and still painful to look at out of the corner of the eye. Sirius didn’t stay another hour. 

**_THIRTEEN YEARS LATER_**

Sirius sat at the café table watching the crowds mill past him. He liked watching all the different people while he worked, one of the perks of being self-employed, but today he hadn’t even pulled his laptop out of his bag yet. The crowds were especially thick today, and people were scurrying about in the light drizzle, looking uniformly harried as they darted between awnings and doorways while they fought to dig out umbrellas or hats. 

There was an itch crawling under his skin to try and draw the crowd through the murky café window, the rivulets running down the smudged glass giving the world outside a hazy, washed out quality that Sirius wanted to capture. He thought about using a quick conveyance charm to hold the image for him for when he was home and could do something with it, but it was a muggle café, so he had to get by with just watching. 

For just a moment there was something familiar about one of the faces that hurried past the window, pressed just a little too close by the bodies around him, but he was gone before Sirius could try and get a good enough look to figure it out. All he got was a tuft of sandy hair sticking up over a worn-out rain jacket and a slump to the shoulders that called up dusty memories of warmer times. His brain skidded sideways away from that thought and he tried to chase it down, but it flickered away too quickly and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad one. 

The little bell over the café door chimed and Sirius startled, losing the thread of thought he was trying to follow. He let it slip away with a small amount of regret. It felt important. A moment later a thump came from across the table in the form of James Potter flinging himself into a seat, knocking the table and nearly spilling Sirius’ coffee. He was suddenly very glad he hadn’t pulled out his laptop yet. 

James didn’t say anything, just dropped his head onto the table with a groan. Sirius just watched his best mate for a moment before patting James on the top of the head, mussing up his hair just to hear him squawk. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Sirius asked, picking up his now mostly cold coffee, less to drink it and more to make sure James didn’t spill it all over one or both of them. 

“I don’t think I’ve slept in a week,” James grumbled, wrapping his arms around his head and not looking at Sirius. He didn’t move for a moment and Sirius was starting to think he had dozed off right on the table, when he suddenly sat up sharply and looked around slightly wild eyed. “Coffee. I could have coffee.” 

Sirius snorted at the awe in James’ voice, as if the concept of caffeine had just been presented to him for the first time. 

Making grabby hands at the cup Sirius was holding, James yawned wide enough that his jaw popped, ruining the effect. Sirius handed over what was left of his coffee, not bothering to warn James that it had gone cold. 

The cup was drained and dropped to the table with a clatter before James shuddered. “Berk,” he said, but he was smiling, just a little, so Sirius didn’t kick him in the shins. Too hard. 

“So, do I want to know why you aren’t sleeping?” 

James yawned again, hard enough that Sirius’ jaw hurt in sympathy. Waving for the waitress, Sirius ordered two more coffees and a couple of sandwiches, hoping to wake James up enough to at least get a straight answer out of him. 

The coffee came out first, and James drained half of it before he slumped back in his chair looking a little wild eyed. “Harry has discovered girls,” he said morosely, running his hand through his hair. 

Sirius snorted so hard that he nearly choked on his coffee, coughing and spluttering as he set his cup down rather than spill any more of it. “Well,” he started, once he could breathe again. “The kid is nearly fourteen. I’d be a little surprised if he hadn’t. I mean, isn’t that the age you decided you were in love with Lily? And look how that turned out.” 

Groaning, James swiped a hand across his face, but Sirius wasn’t sure if it was from stress or to try and pry his eyes open. 

“You really have been losing sleep over this, haven’t you?” Sirius asked, startled. He would have thought James would have been the first one out there encouraging Harry in this. 

“I’m just not ready for him to grow up quite yet. I mean, think of all the trouble we were getting into at his age. Falling in love, blowing things up, getting detentions, sometimes all three at once. I just wanted a little longer before I had to teach him the best ways to charm McGonagall into taking fewer house points, or how to hex the Slytherin’s so their scarves try and chew on their noses.” 

Sirius, who had been looking forward to teaching Harry all of those things frowned. “Maybe you’ll still have a little while yet. I mean, just because you fell in love when you were barely old enough to ride a broom doesn’t mean that Harry has any inkling in that direction.” 

James shook his head, his hair flopping like ruffled feathers. “He’s owled about how to talk to a girl. Some girl from one of the other Quidditch teams. Apparently, he saw her in practice the other day and now wants advice. I’m not sure what to tell him.” 

Taking a moment to sip at his coffee, Sirius smirked. “Do you want Uncle Sirius to have a little chat with him about maybe discovering boys instead? At least they’re easier to talk to.” 

James threw a napkin at him. “As if that’s any better. I distinctly remember you falling in love yourself around that age, mate, and you were no less pathetic about it than I was.” 

The air went out of Sirius in a whoosh, and he slumped in his seat, suddenly not feeling quite up to taunting his best friend anymore. “Yeah. Well. I was probably more pathetic, honestly. At least you married the girl, in the end.” 

The hand that squeezed his arm was warm and didn’t move away, and Sirius wasn’t quite sure if he wanted to swat James away, or tug him in for a hug, because he suddenly felt like he needed one. 

“What brought this on?” James asked, words careful, soft. Sirius wanted to lash out at them, but restrained himself. It wasn’t James’ fault he was feeling maudlin. 

“I thought I saw Remus just before you got here,” he answered with a small shrug that dislodged James’ hand. And there it was. The memory he hadn’t wanted to chase down, hazy through the rain and the reaches of years. “Or at least, I saw someone that looked enough like him to make me melancholy after more than a decade.” He tried to shake it off, but once he said it he made it real. Somehow, after years of repressing it, the loss still hurt if he poked at it too hard. Or at all. 

The narrow slant to James’ eyes, however, caught Sirius off guard. It wasn’t the pitying look he half expected to get. “When was the last time you got laid?” 

It was Sirius’ turn to drop his head to the table with a thunk. He wasn’t about to tell James that it had been nearly seven years since he had gotten laid, and he had never been so relieved. His last few attempts at dating had never lasted long enough for it to even come up, and that was probably the only thing about any of them that had gone right, as far as Sirius was concerned. It wasn’t as if sex was something terrifying or repugnant, it just held no interest for him. It was time that could be better spent on things that called to him more, and he hadn’t met a guy that inspired him to break that rule yet. 

“Well, my last date was Mark,” Sirius answered, words muffled into his arms. It wasn’t quite what James asked, but he didn’t really need to know. When, or even if, Sirius decided to get naked with someone again it wasn’t really any of James’ business. 

“Mark?” James’ voice went up a few notches, and Sirius could just picture the way his eyebrows had gone up without having to look up to see it. “That was over a year ago.” 

Sirius shrugged and forced himself to sit back up, not quite meeting James’ eyes. He was given a little bit of a reprieve when their sandwiches showed up, but not enough of one. “We wanted different things,” Sirius said, finally, not sure how to explain that there simply wasn’t any chemistry, that he hadn’t been able to talk to Mark at all. “It’s fine. Not all of us are destined to settle down with someone for the rest of our lives.” 

“You’re right,” James said around a mouthful of food, crumbs dropping all over his shirt. Sirius rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything. “But I thought that was something you wanted.” 

“Wanted. Past tense, James. Past tense. I long ago realized that I am not the kind of person people want to settle down with. And I’m okay with that.” 

“You mean Remus made you think that,” James said, putting his food down and frowning. The glare Sirius felt forming was lost when James just pushed his glasses up his nose and kicked Sirius. “No, I know that he was one of our best mates, and it seems you’re still more in love with him than I thought. But he put that idea in your head and then buggered off to Merlin knows where, and I don’t even know what happened because you _still won’t tell me_ , and you deserve to be happy as much as anyone else.” 

“Just leave it alone, James,” Sirius sighed, suddenly exhausted and glaring at his sandwich like it was somehow at fault for all of this. “You shouldn’t be angry with him after all these years. I’m not.” It was only barely a lie. 

*** 

Sirius spent nearly the next week trying to capture the image he had seen through the window. He went through several sketchbook pages and even a couple of his carefully hoarded canvases. Real paying work fell by the wayside as he fought with his memory and his brushes. 

He was under no illusions that he was a great artist. That was why his work was done all on a computer. But it was something that gave him peace, let his brain slow down while his hands tried to capture a feeling, to sort through the layers of his thoughts and try and spell them out. Something just for him. 

Every attempt at that moment he had wanted to preserve, however, had somehow ended up warped, twisted and spinning, hazy and jagged, pain lost to the recesses of time. Remus’ eyes stared out at him from every page and he couldn’t remember drawing them even once. 

*** 

James had called to say he was going to be late for their standing monthly pub meet, but Peter hadn’t shown up yet, either, and Sirius was starting to feel out of place sitting there alone. He was entertaining himself shooting sparks out of his wand under the table and seeing how many colors he could manage at once without drawing attention to himself when the chair across from him scraped across the floor. 

Glancing up Sirius startled and nearly fell backwards off his own chair. 

“Remus?” 

“May I?” Remus asked, nodding at the chair he had just pulled out for himself, now looking hesitant to use it. 

Unsure if he wanted to know what was going on or not, Sirius nodded, knowing that he was most likely going to regret it, but unable to say no when actually faced with Remus again after so many years. 

Remus settled into the seat gingerly, grimacing slightly as one of his knees popped, and a long buried instinct in Sirius to take away Remus’ pain came flooding to the surface. He was halfway reaching for Remus before he remembered that they didn’t do that anymore. That they barely knew each other anymore, and the help probably wouldn’t be appreciated. Tucking his wand back away he leaned his chin in his hands just to keep his hands in place, sure it was obvious what he was doing. 

The silence was growing thick and nearly unbearable, but Sirius wasn’t sure how to break it. He had run Remus off all those years ago, and now he wasn’t sure which parts of him would do it again. Probably all of them, if he was honest with himself, which was a habit he had been trying to get into over the last few years. 

“So,” Sirius hesitated, glancing at Remus, who was looking around the pub and checking the door every time someone new came in. “I didn’t know you were back.” 

There was a strange look in Remus’ eyes that Sirius couldn’t identify, but he didn’t say anything, so Sirius lapsed back into the strange molasses thick silence that was slowly threatening to choke them both. He rocked back in his chair for a moment, but stopped at the sharp look from Remus, the one with narrowed eyes and pinched mouth that always had him back pedaling when they knew each other a lifetime ago. 

“How did you know I’d be here?” he tried again, this time staring more at the table than Remus, unable to take the way he was being scrutinized. It was an uncomfortable situation to know he would be found lacking. 

Remus shrugged. “I didn’t. I thought I was meeting Peter.” His voice was low and rusty, like he hadn’t spoken in a while, and Sirius wanted to drink in the sound, but he shook his head. He was supposed to have moved on by now. 

Frowning, Sirius glanced at his watch, the relic of a time piece that the Potters had given him for his seventeenth birthday, and that he still wore, despite having inherited most of the Black family fortune by now. “Peter should have been here twenty minutes ago.” He tugged his sleeves down, covering the watch, unsure how Remus would take him still wearing it. He didn’t want the sympathy just now, he wasn’t sure it wouldn’t break him. “And I hadn’t realized you had kept in touch with Pete.” 

The way Remus played his fingers over the scarred wood of the table caught Sirius’ attention, and he was so captivated that he nearly missed Remus speaking. “I haven’t really kept in touch with anyone, but I ran into him in Diagon Alley last week and he suggested meeting to catch up. He didn’t tell me you would be here.” 

Sirius snorted and waved a hand to get the attention of one of the servers, ordering a couple of beers before he remembered that he probably should have checked if Remus still drank the same beer he used to. As soon as the server left with the order Sirius flashed Remus a small smile, a little shaky around the edges. “Yeah, I gathered you didn’t know, or you probably wouldn’t have shown up. I think we’ve been set up.” 

Groaning softly, Remus glared in the direction of the door as if the door was just hiding Peter from them and could spare them the torture of trying to figure out how to talk to each other again by just opening up and letting him through. When nothing changed Remus’ shoulders sank a little and he settled more firmly into his seat as if grounding himself for a battle. “So, how have you been doing?” he asked, quiet, hesitant in a way Sirius wasn’t used to from him. He supposed part of that was his own fault, but he couldn’t quite find it in himself to regret being here, despite the strangeness of it all. 

Sirius just sat there for a minute, not quite sure how to answer that. How _had_ he been doing? It wasn’t something he generally thought about. He just was. He worked, he sometimes failed at avoiding dating, he spent time with James and Peter. He existed. “Getting by,” he settled on. “I got a muggle computer job I can do from home to keep me from getting too bored with my life. Mostly I’m still bored, though. Nothing very exciting. What about you? What have you been up to? Where did you disappear to?” He meant it as a general question, a _tell me about your new life_ sort of thing, but the flash, however brief, of sharp hurt behind Remus’ eyes told him that it didn’t come across as generic as he meant it to. Maybe it was better that way. 

The beer arrived, which gave them both a moment to breathe, to try and remember that they once knew how to talk to each other. Remus trailed a finger around the rim of his glass, a lick of foam sticking to the pad that Sirius couldn’t tear his eyes from. Finally, Remus shrugged, dropping his hands onto the table and breaking Sirius’ stare. “Going right for it, then, are you?” He arched an eyebrow and picked up his beer, taking a sip without looking away from Sirius. It felt more intimate than some of the dates he had been on lately, despite the edge of hostility behind it. Sirius shivered, but didn’t look away. “I just needed to take some time to take care of me,” Remus finally said, the first one to look away. 

Suddenly his beer seemed fascinating, and Sirius drained half of it in one go just to buy himself some thinking time. Part of him wanted to shout at Remus, but part of him wanted to curl up and put his head in Remus’ lap and ask if he could have taken care of Sirius, too, while he was at it, since Sirius certainly hadn’t been up to the task alone. “You know what, you're right. Let's not do this right now. Or possibly ever. You needed to leave, so you left. It's been over a decade. II learned to live without you a long time ago.” A blatant lie, but one that he needed to tell just then, because without it he wasn’t sure where this was going to end up, or if it would leave him intact when it was over. “Let's just be civil and wait for James and Peter to get here. We can pretend we're still friends for that long, can't we?” It wasn’t quite what he wanted to say, but it was all he could get out under the sudden crushing knowledge that he had never been enough for Remus, and the sharp certainty that that was even truer now than it had ever been. That wasn’t something that he had ever wanted confirmed. 

A heavy sigh, a sharp, staccato burst of air, came from across the table, and when Sirius looked back Remus was just turning to look away. “I suppose we can do that,” he murmured, taking another pull from his beer. Then he shook his head and turned back to Sirius, the sharp edge of his anger showing on his face in a way that was so achingly familiar despite the new lines around his eyes, the greying hair at his temples, that Sirius forgot about the years for a moment, sure that he was about to be chastised for staying out too late and worrying Remus again. “You know what, Sirius, no, we can’t do that. Because you’re blaming me for taking care of myself first, and I needed to do that. We couldn’t have survived if we kept going the way we were, and you couldn’t see it. I won’t let you blame me for doing the sensible thing for once.” 

_”You aren’t good for me.”_ Sirius could still hear those words echoing in the recesses of his mind, and he felt them bubble up, making his eyes burn and the air suddenly sharp and painful to breathe in. Closing his eyes for a long moment and trying to find the anger he had been holding onto until this point amidst the hurt and guild being reminded of that moment dragged up, Sirius threw some money on the table, probably far more than was needed to pay for two beers, but he didn’t care. “Okay, fine, Remus, if you want to do this now we can, but not here. I am not doing this here. If we’re really going to have this out it won’t be in a crowded pub. You want to have this fight now instead of when we should have had it thirteen years ago then let’s have it. Back at my place.” 

Looking about as angry as Sirius had ever seen him, Remus stood up and gestured at Sirius to lead the way. “Fine then,” he growled. 

Sirius stomped out of the pub, only just refraining from allowing the door to slam behind him. He might not have ever out grown his melodramatic phase, but at least he had grown up enough to know when to indulge it. He didn’t check if Remus was following him, however, as he slipped into the alleyway beside the pub, out of view of any passing muggles. 

When he turned around and leaned against the rough bricks for a moment Remus was there, wand in hand, and Sirius startled. They might be fighting, but did Remus really not trust him that much? He didn’t comment, though. If Remus wanted the extra security Sirius wasn’t going to take it from him. He’d done enough of that when they were together, apparently. 

“You’re going to have to side along,” he said, jutting his chin in the direction of the wand in Remus’ hand. “If there isn’t going to be a problem with touching me for that.” 

The wand disappeared. “I’ll survive it.” 

Grabbing on to Remus’ arm as casually as he could manage, startling at the feel of another human against his hand for a moment, before they squeezed down, spinning and churning just to pop out in his parlor. 

Remus pulled himself away from Sirius almost immediately after they arrived, glancing around the room taking in the bookshelves stacked precariously, the muggle television but the wizarding radio, the take away carton still on the side table by the sofa. 

Sirius gave him a minute to look, then sighed and sank down onto the sofa, suddenly exhausted beyond the telling of it. “If you were curious about me you could have gotten in touch any time over the last thirteen years, Remus. I haven’t gone anywhere. Not really.” 

Remus glanced around, this time looking a little more focused, and it took Sirius a second, but then he realized that it was probably for a place to sit. 

The flat wasn’t really set up for company, since the only people he ever had over were James and Peter and neither of them was particularly opposed to getting close on the sofa. 

He flicked his wand and one of the throw pillows that Lily had bought him slowly grew into a squishy, if oddly colored, arm chair. Remus sat gingerly, as if unsure of its structural integrity, and shoved his hands into his lap as if he was fighting the urge to wring them. Or throttle Sirius. Both were valid options. “After the way we left things, well, I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me. By the time I got myself into a good enough place I thought I could talk to you again I just…” he trailed off and took a deep breath. “I didn’t know how to come back.” 

The weight of that settled into Sirius’ chest, right behind his breastbone, it felt like he couldn’t breathe. “Remus,” he sighed, dragging a hand over his face and feeling much older than 35. “You’re right, I was angry. And even more hurt. But mostly, I just still loved you. You could have come back any time and it would have been what I wanted.” 

“And now?” There was still a hint of anger flitting around the edges of Remus’ eyes, Sirius could see it in the way they pinched at the corners, but there was a hopeful lilt to his voice that Sirius almost missed. Wasn’t sure he hadn’t hallucinated. 

Tired of the half-truths, of telling himself he was over it, he just shrugged. “We need to do a lot of talking. Proper talking. But it’s still all I’ve ever wanted, Remus.” 

“Talking,” Remus said, looking away from Sirius for a moment, but then looking back and meeting his eyes. “We can do talking.” 

Sirius took a deep breath and held it for a minute before letting it out slowly. “Hold on, Remus. Before we get into the really heavy stuff, I need to make sure this is still what you want, too.” 

“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t,” Remus said, a little more forcefully than Sirius expected. 

Shaking his head, Sirius held up a hand. “You don’t know that. Not for sure. I’m not the same person I was then.” He paused and frowned. “No, that’s not true. I’m the same person, I just know myself better now.” 

“You mean the sex thing?” Remus asked, almost like it wasn’t earth shattering news to Sirius when he worked it out for himself. As if Remus had always known that Sirius pushed for sex to cover up the fact that he had never really felt any need to have it, that the sex was more about convincing himself that he wasn’t broken than about any real urge. 

“How?” Sirius himself wasn’t sure what he was asking, but it seemed that all the years hadn’t dimmed Remus’ ability to read him, because he answered anyway. 

“You never really seemed like you were enjoying yourself, for all that you instigated sex more often than not.” He shrugged, his hands gripping his knees white knuckled, as if this conversation wasn’t at all important, as if it were the most important thing that had happened to either of them in a long time. Ever. 

“I enjoyed making you feel good, but only ever you. Since you, well, I’ve realized that it was about you, not me, not anyone else I’ve tried to be with, and I would be perfectly happy never having sex again.” Sirius said it all in a rush, trying to spit the words out without having to think about them. He had never said them out loud before, and he knew they could make or break whatever was going on with Remus right now. He couldn’t think about what he was saying or he wouldn’t be able to say it at all. 

Remus didn’t say anything for a long while, and Sirius was just working himself up to a good panic, breathing coming faster and shallower, when Remus got up from his seat and slipped into the one beside Sirius on the sofa and taking his hand. “I suspect that that’s something we’re going to need to talk about. Probably a lot. I get the feeling you care more about this than I do and I’m not ready to hash that out just yet. I will say that it’s not enough to run me off, if that’s what you need to hear.” 

“You know,” Sirius said slowly, marveling over Remus’ fingers twined through his own, “I didn’t think I did, but clearly, I was wrong. I really needed to hear that.” 

They lapsed into silence again, but this time the way Remus’ thumb was lightly running over the back of his hand kept Sirius from paying too much attention to it until Remus took a slow breath and squeezed Sirius’ hand before carefully pulling his own back again. 

“But I need something from you, too,” Remus said, slowly, like he was dodging hexes with every syllable. 

“Anything,” Sirius said immediately, nearly having to sit on his hands to keep him from reaching for Remus again. After thirteen years even just to be able to hold his hand was more than Sirius ever thought he would have again, and it was nearly more than he could handle. He already never wanted to stop. 

“I need you to not do that,” Remus said, suddenly not quite looking at Sirius, and Sirius felt his stomach drop out. He wasn’t even sure what he had been doing, but if he had already fucked this up that wasn’t a good sign. 

“Do what?” he asked slowly, trying not to let his voice shake the way he could feel his hands starting to. 

When Remus didn’t answer right away Sirius sighed and sat up a little straighter, reaching for his wand. “Tea or whiskey?” 

“What?” Remus visibly startled, but he looked at Sirius, and Sirius could see that he didn’t look angry which was better than he had been hoping for. 

“I feel like this is going to turn into a longer discussion than either of us planned for the night, so, tea or whiskey? I’d offer coffee, but I’m not actually sure I have any. The coffee pot has been spitting the grounds back out at me lately, and I can’t figure out how I’ve upset it.” 

Remus chuckled faintly, and that was enough to get Sirius to drop his shoulders a few millimeters. The tension was still there, but if Remus had been truly upset with him he wouldn’t have been able to get him to smile. That was a constant from the time they met, and Sirius couldn’t imagine it had changed now. 

“Tea is fine,” Remus said, just the edges of his mouth still turned up, so Sirius flicked his wand and set the kettle to heating. 

“Okay,” he said, still watching where the tea cups filled themselves with sugar, and milk for him, but none for Remus. “Now, what is that I’m doing wrong?” He didn’t turn back to Remus, couldn’t look at him and actually get the words out of his mouth. 

“Oh, Sirius.” 

Sirius heard the shuffling at his side, but he still couldn’t quite bring himself to look, despite being fully aware that behaving like a two-year-old probably wasn’t helping any, and refusing to physically look at the problem didn’t mean the problem wasn’t there. 

“You aren’t doing anything wrong.” 

“But you just –” 

“I really didn’t,” Remus cut him off. “I asked you not to do something, that doesn’t mean it’s wrong, just something I need you to not do anymore. Those are different things.” 

Sirius didn’t answer for a minute, trying to parse his way through what Remus said and not just act on instinct and hurt. It was something he had been working on for the past few years, with mixed results. “Okay, I’m really trying to make that make sense, but I’m having a hard time getting past the _I was doing something you didn’t want me to_ bit.” 

“Does it help that you had no way of knowing that, since I made quite sure to never tell you?” Remus asked, reaching out and taking the tea cup that was floating in front of his face so that it didn’t bump him in the nose. Sirius missed his and had hot tea slosh down his cheek where the cup was still hovering. Before he could even swear Remus had flicked his wand and dried him off, and sent a soothing charm in the direction of the burn. 

“Not much,” Sirius grumbled, grabbing his tea, but just setting it down on the end table beside him. He was just a little bit put out with wearing it, and suddenly wasn’t in the mood to drink it anymore. That whiskey was sounding better and better. 

“You try so hard, Sirius,” Remus said gently, reaching up and running a thumb across Sirius’ cheek, just over where the tea had spilled. He wondered if it was red, or if it was a coincidence. 

“I thought that was the point,” Sirius frowned, not liking that he didn’t know where this was going. He felt off kilter, spinning into his own head. Only the two little points of contact with Remus, a thumb on his face, the barest press of ankles from the way they were torqued to simultaneously try and face each other and look away, kept him grounded enough to breathe. 

“For most people it is. For me, well, it’s a lot.” 

Okay, talking. This wasn’t a reprimand, it was talking. Sirius could do talking. “What do you mean?” 

“I’m not mentally equipped to let you fix all my problems for me. It’s intrinsically tied to my sense of self-worth. I need you to give me the space to take care of myself, too.” 

Sirius finally turned and fully faced Remus, sighing and carding a hand through his hair. “I can’t promise anything. It’s ingrained in me to try and make sure you never hurt, and I’m still not very good at thinking ahead. Although I am doing a better job of at least trying. So that’s what I can promise. That I’ll try.” 

A creeping silence settled over them again, and Sirius was starting to find all the times that this was happening disconcerting. He wanted to fill in the cracks of their conversation with noise, any type, just to keep it from shattering apart. Babble until it strung all the fragmented pieces together in a way that he could hold onto, could contain so they couldn't escape. Something tangible to prove this was happening. 

Remus didn't seem inclined to let him, though, taking the silences and stretching them, turning them over so that Sirius could see all their different angles reflecting in Remus' eyes, fractals of color around a black hole of a pupil, pulling him in. 

"I think," Remus finally started, then he stopped again and shook his head. 

Sirius opened his mouth to immediately ask what Remus was going to say, but Remus put a finger over his lips like he would a child and smiled, just faintly, a tiny curl at the edges of his lips. "I'm just thinking, Sirius, give me a moment." 

Nodding, Sirius fought the urge to push anyway. He knew it wouldn't help, but he didn't know any other way to be. 

"My initial urge is to just say that trying is enough," Remus said eventually, still not taking his finger away from Sirius' mouth, but Sirius was starting to think it was more of an afterthought, that he almost didn't remember it was there, or why. He kissed the pad of Remus' finger, and Remus jumped a little and pulled his hand away, wide eyed, cheeks turning a very faint shade of pink that Sirius couldn't look away from. 

"But?" Sirius prompted now that the finger had been removed. 

"But it's not enough." 

The air went out of Sirius in one gut punch exhale and he couldn't seem to draw it back in, shoulders curling downward, a taught bow drawn against his knees. 

"That doesn't mean I don't want to try, Sirius," Remus added, hand landing on the seat between them, an offering that Sirius didn't know if he could, or should, take. "But I do need more than just you trying. I need you to be willing to talk to me without immediately thinking everything is a reprimand. If I tell you I need you to back down, or let me do something for myself, I need you to actually let me. Or at least talk to me about it. I can't take the anger, the hurt, the going behind my back to do it anyway. That's what nearly broke me the first time." 

"More talking," Sirius said, sounding a little dazed even to his own ears. 

"Yes, Sirius, more talking." 

Sirius shook his head, and Remus face almost immediately closed off. "No, no, that's not what I mean," he jumped in almost immediately, remembering why he had been so forceful about fixing everything for Remus when they still knew each other well. He couldn't stand to see that look on Remus' face. 

"It wasn't a complaint, more a revelation. Believe it or not I have grown up. Well. Some, at any rate. I can do talking." 

"If you can promise me talking before temper tantrums then I can promise that I'd like to give this another try." 

Sirius let his hand slide over to where Remus hadn't removed his, fingers just brushing, taking the offering. "See, you still know me well enough, thirteen years later, to know that there will probably still be temper tantrums," Sirius smiled. It was a small smile, still tight around the edges, the worry about this all going wrong again and leaving him shattered still blanketing everything else. But it was still a smile, real and unforced. 

Remus snorted, sliding his hand under Sirius'. "It's been thirteen years, not thirteen decades." 

"I knew I loved you for a reason." The words were out before Sirius could catch himself, and he tensed the second they had escaped without his permission. "I'm sorry," he breathed. "Definitely too soon." 

"Maybe a little," Remus shrugged, but he didn't pull his hand away, and of all the things Sirius had said wrong over the course of the night, this was the one that Remus didn't shy away from. "But for what it’s worth, I never stopped loving you, either." 

Sirius had to close his eyes against that, letting it buffet against him, but unable to process it immediately. He just let it wrap around him like a cloak so he could carry it with him until he was better ready to figure out what that meant for him now, and what it would have meant for him to know over the last thirteen years. If he tried to take all that in without giving it time to mellow he knew he would be angry, and he didn't want to be angry at Remus anymore. He wanted to take the last couple of hours, digest them in small minute fragments, until he could finally let go of over a decade's worth of anger and move on. 

The way their fingers were still lightly brushing against each other was going a long way to dissipating what was left of that anger. 

He swallowed Remus' words, took a deep breath, and tried something new. "I think, when I have time to properly think about that, I'm going to be angry. Not that you needed time to figure out what you needed, because, the truth of it is, I did, too. I just wasn't nearly as self-aware. But I think I'm going to be angry that I spent thirteen years thinking you hated me, and being angry about that. At you. At myself. It's not the sort of angry that will make or break us trying again, but I need you to know that it's coming." 

The fingers beneath his own spasmed slightly, but still didn't pull away. 

"That's..." Remus stopped and Sirius could hear him swallowing. "That's more than fair." 

"I want to ask you to spend the night," Sirius said, suddenly. It had been in the back of his mind since Remus had first sat down across from him at the pub, and it was finally burbling up to the surface. 

"So you can be angry at me in the morning?" Remus asked gently, resignedly. 

Sirius shook his head. "No, because I miss my bed smelling like you. But I also think we should take this slow. We've proven tonight that we can still talk to each other." 

"Probably better than we used to," Remus interrupted, shrugging, and watching Sirius, eyes a little skittish, fingers still twitching. 

Nodding in acknowledgement, Sirius laced their fingers together. "But we barely know each other anymore. We need to find all the new ways we fit together, and learn how to let go of the old ones that don't work anymore. I'm not sure if asking you to stay is too fast." He stopped and grinned a little helplessly. "No, that's not true. I'm sure it's too fast, I'm just not sure if I care. I might have learned to live without you, but that doesn’t mean I want to keep doing it.” 

Sirius expected a Remus argument, a well thought out list of reasons for whichever side of the decision he was going to fall on. Instead, Remus leaned in close and whispered, "Can I kiss you?" 

And somehow Sirius heard both questions at once. The _Can I kiss you right now?_ and the _Can I kiss you ever? Is that a thing that you do?_ The fact that Remus thought to ask both questions made Sirius more sure than anything else that had happened in the last few hours that everything was going to work out okay this time. It would probably be more work than either of them thought, and they would fizzle out in the strangest places, places neither of them expected to clash, but they would both fight _for_ each other this time, instead of just _with_ each other. 

"Yes. Yes you can."


End file.
